


Daijoubu

by BlackWiresOnHerHead



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mako Mori the bravest of them all, Sign Language, little spoon Raleigh, nonverbal Mako Mori who is still kicking ass & taking names & punching monsters in the face, sad cinnamon rolls learning to trust again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9495671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWiresOnHerHead/pseuds/BlackWiresOnHerHead
Summary: An earlier version of the script would have Mako and Raleigh speaking two different languages for the majority of the film. After connecting as pilots, they would slowly begin to understand one another, and before the end would hear each other speaking in their own respective languages.-“Little Mako screams and screams and screams, and Raleigh knows she never speaks again.”





	1. Chapter 1

“This is Mako Mori. One of our brightest.”

A young woman extends her hand to shake Raleigh’s. A small, tight-lipped smile is exchanged. And then the hand that isn’t holding her umbrella is making gestures, and Marshal Pentecost tells him Miss Mori is looking forward to his input on Gipsy’s upgrades. 

Raleigh hesitates. He’s picked up bits of all sorts of languages over the years on tour: obviously the necessities like greetings, formalities, “Where’s the bathroom?”, et cetera. But he’s never learned any sign language.

Once she makes eye contact, he says very slowly, “I LOOK FORWARD TO IT AS WELL.”

Pentecost lifts a hand. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Becket. Miss Mori is not hard of hearing. A lack of vocal communication does not imply deafness.”

“Oh.” Raleigh’s face burns. “My apologies, Miss Mori. I didn’t mean to assume,” he says quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. She nods once, smiling a little wider, and all is apparently forgiven. He still feels he should do something, but he can only put his foot in his mouth so many times.

“Come, we will tour the facility first, and then Miss Mori will show you to your Jaeger.” Pentecost leads the way toward the Shatterdome doors, Mako Mori matching his stride beside him and Raleigh two paces behind.

As they walk, she taps the marshal’s shoulder and her hands move quickly, succinctly when he turns to look at her. It’s difficult to tell from this angle, but Raleigh’s pretty sure she pointed at him. The barest hint of a smile passes over Pentecost’s face as he signs a response.

No translation of their exchange is offered. That’s fine, Raleigh supposes. He considers it a challenge to learn whatever sign language Miss Mori uses, and guess what? He just fucking accepted.

~

“Tendo! It’s good to see you, buddy.”

“It’s good to see you too, brother.” They embrace, and he sees his chance.

“I need your help,” Raleigh whispers urgently.

“Anything you need.”

“I fucked up. Teach me sign language.”

~

“I want to apologize again for my first impression,” Raleigh blurts out when she shows him to his bunk later. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Miss Mori arches an eyebrow, then shrugs. She clicks her pen and starts scribbling something onto her clipboard and holds it up for him to read. 

_No harm done, Mr. Becket. But I’ll note on your file that apologizing should be added to the list of your exceptional skills._

The ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. “So we’re okay, then?” 

_I assure you there are no hard feelings._

“All right.” Raleigh tries for another smile, but he can feel the back of his neck getting warm again. It’s time for a change of subject. “So, what’s your story? Restoring old Jaegers, showing has-beens like me around. That can’t be it. You a pilot?”

She hesitates before shaking her head. “Not a pilot, huh? But you want to be one?” he guesses, and the look in her eye is all the confirmation he needs. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your simulator score?”

Miss Mori grins as she writes _51 drops, 51 kills_ , even circling it a couple of times.

Raleigh lets out a low whistle. “Wow, fifty-one’s amazing. But you’re not one of the candidates tomorrow?”

And just like that, the smile fades. She shakes her head and shrugs. _The marshal has his reasons._

“Yeah, he always does, doesn’t he? But with fifty-one kills, I can’t imagine what they are.”

She flips her pen around a few times before she changes the subject. _I hope you approve of my choices. I studied your fighting techniques and strategy._ She half-glances up before adding, _Even Alaska._

Raleigh knows access to recordings from the Sitka drop isn’t given to many people; it’s considered need-to-know information, too disturbing for the public. “And what’d you think?”

Miss Mori squints at him a little bit. Theatrically flips to a fresh page on her clipboard with a satisfying _thwick_. 

She starts slowly, but her thought process gets the better of her and her writing gets more rushed. _I think you’re unpredictable. You have a habit of deviating from standard combat techniques. You take risks that endanger yourself and your crew. I don’t think you’re the right man for this mission._

There’s a pause. To her credit, Miss Mori doesn’t fidget.

“Thank you for your honesty,“ he says at last, and he means it. “You might be right. But one day when you're a pilot, you're gonna see that in combat, you have to make some difficult decisions. And you have to live with the consequences.” The pictures of Yancy are heavy in his hands. “That's what I'm trying to do.”

Silence eats at them as the reality of his situation sinks in. Tomorrow, Raleigh will be assigned a new co-pilot. He’s going to Drift again, get back into Gipsy Danger to try and save the world. And he knows, deep in his bones, that if something goes wrong again and his partner is killed in combat, he’s not going to survive this time around either—he’s not sure he wants to.

Raleigh doesn’t feel much like talking anymore.

“So uh, you’ll be there when I meet the candidates?” And he knows he’s being rude, but he needs space to pull himself together, and it’s getting crowded and warm and it’s not fair, it’s not her fault, he just needs to be alone.

Miss Mori nods, scrawling _Yes, they’ll be ready at 0600 in the kwoon._

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Mori.” He bows, trying to smile, and does his best not to completely bolt into his washroom. 

“You’re fine, it’s fine, it’s gonna be fine,” Raleigh mutters to himself over the basin. He turns on the water and splashes his face. “You’re the only Becket Boy left, they’re counting on you. Gotta do it for Yancy.” He lets out a long, stuttering breath. “Do it for Yancy.”

~

Outside, Miss Mori pretends she hadn’t heard him. She pauses on her way out the door, scribbles something on the corner of her notepad, tears it off and leaves it on his dresser.

~

Raleigh doesn’t find the note until later, after he stumbles out of the washroom and accidentally catches eyes with Mako without his shirt on. He puts the slip of paper with his stack of photos.

_Kwoon, 0600. And you may call me Mako._

~

Raleigh… is hungry. And he suddenly realizes that the mess hall was nowhere in the marshal’s tour of the base. He figures he can just grab the first person he meets in the hallway and ask where the hell the food is.

Instead, he opens his door just in time to witness a woman in a grease-stained uniform start pounding on the door directly across the hall. She’s shouting, “MORI. We have a code red! Gipsy’s muscle engines are malfunctioning, entire left leg is shot to hell!”

The door is thrown open with a loud _bang_ , and Mako’s face has drained of color.

“Oh good, just checking if you were here. Let’s grab dinner, shall we?” the woman says breezily before Mako glares and starts signing what Raleigh’s sure are some very violent threats of retaliation. Her visitor only laughs. When they turn to leave, they catch sight of Raleigh at the same time; Mako stops short, but her companion lights up and eagerly shuffles forward. 

She’s small, even shorter than Mako, with graying hair tucked neatly out of the way. “Dr. Zulma Consuelo Hernández Bautista. Jaeger Engineering specialist,” she says, sticking out one hand.

“Raleigh Becket. Pilot.” 

“Yes, I know who you are. We’ve been restoring your Jaeger for almost a year now. I’d say at this point Gipsy Danger feels at least fifty percent ours, no?” Dr. Bautista turns to wink at Mako, which gives Raleigh an opportunity to flex his fingers. Good _god_ this woman has a strong handshake. “We were just leaving to pick up our dinner. Come and join us. I doubt Marshal Pentecost bothered to include the mess hall in his tour.”

“I’d appreciate that,” says Raleigh, and he feels the megawatt I’m-a-rockstar-Jaeger-pilot smile slip out.

“That man has been working with machines too long. He forgets this base houses ten thousand life forms aside from the world’s giant robots.”

Mako starts signing, and Dr. Bautista pulls a face. “Yes, yes, I’m one to talk. You’ve forgotten to eat plenty of times too, mija. Come, let’s not make the poor boy starve too.” And, pulling Mako by the crook of her elbow, she starts down the hallway toward the promised land.

Raleigh trails behind them. “So you’re an engineer too? What’s your specialty, doctor?”

“Weapons development,” she says over her shoulder, flashing a mischievous grin. “You know those automated grenade launchers mounted in Phoenix River’s shoulders?”

“Yeah.”

“My idea.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” she says as they turn a corner. “I was inspired by a fireworks show out in Manila. I tried to convince them to use real fireworks—modified, of course, but the same principle. Different chemicals, different colors, potential for blinding the damn things—but I was overruled.” She sighs wistfully. “It would have been beautiful.”

Raleigh takes a moment to imagine it, and decides to never get on Dr. Bautista’s bad side. “I’m... sure it would.” 

Mako turns to look at him and widens her eyes, as if to say _Why are you encouraging this?_ and all he can do is shrug.

“Ah, here we are, Mr. Becket. I hope you paid attention.”

“Yes, uh. Two lefts, and a right past the elevator.”

“Exactly. You can take it from here, I think. But if a David Martinelli from Engineering tries to talk to you about football, just walk away. Trust me.”

“You’re not staying?” Raleigh says to both of them. But not really. His eyes keep going back to Mako.

(“God, you’re embarrassing,” Yancy seems to whisper to him.)

Dr. Bautista hastily starts grabbing boxes and cartons of food and shoving them into Mako’s arms. “No, we have to get back to the hangar. We’re finishing up Gipsy’s maintenance for your Drift test tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s at least in good hands.”

“The best,” she responds, grinning as she scoops up a number of boxes for herself. “But it’s time for us to go. We’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Becket! It was a pleasure to meet you.”

~

Once they’re out in the main hallway again, Mako looks over her shoulder and steps in front of Zulma, eyes narrowed. 

_You never go to the mess hall,_ she signs with an accusing expression. _You always make Lieutenant Ahmed bring food to your desk. And I’m not going to the hangar with you, I’m checking in at the kwoon to prep the cadets for tomorrow’s compatibility test. You—_ she taps Zulma’s nose _—knew that._

She doesn’t even try to look innocent. “Jyoti said Becket kept making gaga eyes at you when he arrived, and I wanted to see if it was true. It is, by the way.”

Mako frowns, and Zulma just laughs. “He’s not half bad, that one. You could do a lot worse.”

_I am not here for romance._

“I think it already found you, mija. It’s tall, blonde, and muscular.”

_Don’t encourage this. People keep talking about me like that and I don’t know why._

“We want you to find someone who makes you happy. And if it happens to be Mr. Golden Boy over there—”

_I don’t care if he can make me happy, I care if he can **Drift** with me!_ Mako signs, eyes ablaze.

All traces of joking vanish. “I know what this means to you. We all want to see you in a Jaeger, every one of us.” Zulma leans in a little, voice low. “Now I’m no Drift researcher, but I’ve seen my fair share of pilots. You two have enough chemistry to blow the ceiling off this place and make the Shatterdome earn its name. I think there’s a good chance of compatibility.”

Mako’s hands are trembling, ever so slightly, when she signs, _I think so, too._

“Then go and fight for it.”

_I’m going to discuss it with the marshal again today._

“Good,” says Zulma with a firm nod. “Say hello to Jyoti for me when you get to LOCCENT, yes?”

_I will._

“And tell her she was right!” she calls down the hall as an afterthought, and Mako gives the “OK” sign over her shoulder before turning it into a rude one.

~

The marshal is busy pushing his way through LOCCENT, so Mako pulls out her tablet and starts typing.

“The candidates are ready,” it says out loud for her.

“Good,” he says, signing a form shoved at him by a secretary.

“But there is one thing I wish to discuss.”

And here Marshal Pentecost stops and turns. His face is stern, but his voice is gentle. “Mako, we’ve talked about this.”

_I need to. You know I need to. For my family, for—_

“Vengeance is like an open wound. You cannot bring that kind of emotion into the Drift, it’s too dangerous.”

_You promised me,_ Mako signs, fury in every movement. _I should be piloting Gipsy with him. Nobody knows her like I do, I’m the most qualified. **And** I’ve studied his fighting, I could copy his combat move-for-move without even—_

“That does not matter,” he says sharply, reverting to Japanese. “You are not ready, and we are out of time.” 

All the techies in LOCCENT hurry to look away as the marshal takes his leave, carefully not seeing the devastated expression on Mako’s face. Jyoti trades a sorrowful glance with Tendo across the comm screens before returning to her code.

~

> **KATKAR.J.3:** Another “no.” It was ugly. Whole room saw it.  
>  **BAUTISTA.Z:** That damn fool.  
>  **BAUTISTA.Z:** How is she?  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** I invited her to this week’s poker game tonight…  
>  **BAUTISTA.Z:** And?  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** She went to spar with some cadets instead.  
>  **BAUTISTA.Z:** Poor kids won’t know what hit them.  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** Hell hath no fury.


	2. Chapter 2

Raleigh reports to the training room at 0545 hours. He wants to watch his potential co-pilots in the warm-up, wants to see if there’s anyone in the Shatterdome who has that inherent _thing_ about them that makes his whole spine tingle with anticipation.

There is one, of course. But only one. She’s standing at the head of the room, supervising their warm-up even while Dr. Bautista briefs her on Gipsy’s current status, and _apparently_ she’s not a candidate.

Dr. Bautista nods politely as she passes Raleigh on her way out. (She turns and winks at Mako too, but Raleigh doesn’t see.)

“Morning,” he says as he sidles up next to Mako.

_You’re early,_ she scrawls on her notepad, and that’s when Raleigh sees the bruises on her knuckles.

“Wanted to size them up a little. See what kind of fighters you picked out for me.” He nods to her hands. “Rough night?” 

_You could say that._

“What have you studied?”

_Judo, taekwondo, karate, some wushu. And you, Mr. Becket?_

“Shouldn’t you be telling me? I thought you studied my combat techniques.”

_Yes, and you switch styles constantly. You almost never use the same move twice in any given fight. The closest classification would be mixed martial arts, but your form is ~~terrible~~ almost non-existent. You’ve never studied, you’re merely self-taught with many years of experience of street fighting._

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

_Very rarely. I am only human, after all._

“So why’d you ask?”

_I was being polite._ Underneath it, she draws a ridiculous face with its tongue sticking out, and Raleigh starts to laugh.

“Mr. Becket. You’re here early,” Marshal Pentecost says behind them, and they both turn and salute.

“Yes, sir. Eager to start the day.” He sneaks a quick glance at Mako; the humor is gone from her face.

“Good. We’ll get started right away, then. Miss Mori, are all the candidates ready?” She signs quickly, ending with a slight shake of her head. “I see. You ought to join the cadets in the warm-up exercises, Mr. Becket. Can’t have you pulling a muscle.”

Raleigh knows a dismissal when he hears one. But it also wasn’t an explicit one, so he sort of doesn’t give a fuck. “With respect, sir, I think I’ll be fine for these spars. I’d rather continue observing the candidates who’ve been selected for me.”

Pentecost only looks at him for a few moments and then apparently decides not to waste unnecessary energy. “As you were,” he says curtly, and begins to walk amongst the cadets as they finish their stretches.

~

When the matches begin, Mako stands at Marshal Pentecost’s side, silent as ever. At every point she holds up the appropriate number of fingers for Raleigh’s score, then twists her wrist and gives the cadet’s score. It’s a simple gesture, not judgmental in the least. And yet Raleigh keeps getting distracted by the waves of utter condescension seeming to roll off of her.

She _knows_ how expressive her face is, right? There’s no way she doesn’t. 

“Okay, what?” he says at last after scoring the winning point on yet another opponent. “You don’t like them? I thought you hand-picked them yourself.”

Mako’s forehead wrinkles.

“Every time a match ends you make a face, like you’re critical of their performance. So what gives?”

Too impatient to bother with notes, Mako starts signing—and if Raleigh didn’t know better, he would think the marshal was trying not to laugh as he translated. “Miss Mori claims to be critical of _your_ performance, Mr. Becket. She believes you could have ended the matches two moves sooner.”

“Is that so? You know my fighting that well?” he directs to her, and she retaliates with a withering stare. “Can we change this up? How about we give her a shot?”

“You will stick with the cadet list we have, ranger. Only candidates with Drift compatibility—” Mako insistently points at her own chest, and Pentecost lowers his voice. “Mako, this is not only about a neural connection, it’s also about physical compatibility.”

There’s no sane reason somebody with fifty-one simulator kills wouldn’t be on this candidate list, so Raleigh tosses out, “What’s wrong, Marshal? Not sure your brightest can cut it in the ring with me?”

Pentecost is silent for a beat before he nods to the open floor. “Go.” 

Raleigh suppresses a smile. He’s always been good at getting a rise out of authority figures.

“I’m not gonna dial down my moves just because you fixed up my Jaeger,” he says before they begin.

Mako makes a show of cracking her knuckles, picking up the staff and twirling it around effortlessly. She crooks her fingers.

_Bring it on._

~

He scores the first point easy. She doesn’t even move. “One-zero.”

And then Mako lets out a loud kiai, the first sound Raleigh’s ever heard her make, and it catches him off-guard so much he can’t react before Mako’s staff is at his forehead.

_One-one_ , she signs with an insolent glare.

So she does make noise sometimes. 

Why is it only sometimes?

He clips her on the hip. She’s still not trying, and he can’t figure out why. Is she still sizing him up? “Two-one. Concentrate.”

(“You’re full of so much shit, kid,” Yancy tells him.)

Raleigh moves to strike, and yes, finally she fights back, moving so fast he can barely keep up until she softly raps him on the forehead.

_Two-two._ Mako sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry, and Raleigh’s laughing as they reset for the next round.

“This is a serious moment, ranger, and it will be treated as such.”

She’ll score another point on him if he looks away for even a fraction of a second, so Raleigh’s eyes stay with Mako’s as he says, “Yes, sir.”

He rushes at her, and the next thing he knows he’s tumbling and then Mako’s staff is at his throat while, many miles away, the cadets start hooting with excitement.

_Three-two._

She’s not even breathing hard. She’s standing there, at perfect ease, while Raleigh’s blood seems to be singing and dancing through his goddamn veins. Because this is a challenge, a real challenge, and it feels _right_.

(He can feel Yancy laughing at him. “Holy shit, you’re _smiling_. This girl’s about to kick your ass and you can’t fucking _wait._ ”)

“Miss Mori, more restraint,” Pentecost says in Japanese.

And Raleigh wants to say, “No, show me. Show me everything.”

They rush toward each other at the same time, and when they meet in the middle it’s like magic. They seem to flow like water, back and forth, whirling, roaring, ripping. He thinks he gains the upper hand when he tumbles her, but she just rolls back onto her feet and charges without even a pause to breathe. And then Raleigh’s flat on his back with his leg pinned, and he knows he lost the match but his whole brain is too busy yelling, “YES, PERFECT.”

“That’s enough,” Pentecost says firmly, voice cutting through the wild applause from the cadets. “I’ve seen what I need to see.”

“Me too.” He takes the hand Mako offers and lets her pull him to his feet. “She’s my co-pilot.”

“That won’t work.”

He feels Mako stiffen beside him. “Why not?”

“Because I said so, Mr. Becket. I’ve already made my decision. Report to the Shatterdome at 0800 to find out who your co-pilot will be.” The marshal straightens his uniform and nods to the room at large. “Dismissed.”

Raleigh turns, but Mako is already gone.

~

> **KATKAR.J.3:** Tea time.  
>  **YU.T.109:** Do tell.  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** She sparred with Becket. They’re compatible.  
>  **YU.T.109:** !!!  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** But still denied.  
>  **YU.T.109:** That’s ridiculous.  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** I know.  
>  **YU.T.109:** Where is she now?  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** Not sure. No one has seen her. 

~

Raleigh finds her at the bunks, patting her pockets and looking around wildly. 

“Mako,” he calls, waving her forgotten notepad. She bows a little as thanks, but she doesn’t look him in the eye as she takes it. 

“I don’t understand,” he says earnestly, keeping his voice low. “I mean… you felt it, right? We’re Drift compatible.”

She carelessly flips her notepad open and scrawls, _Thank you for sparring with me, Mr. Becket. But there is nothing to talk about._ She reaches for the door.

“Um. That’s my room.” He has to squash the urge to take her hand and ask her to talk when she brushes past. Instead, he just follows. “Mako, come on. I know you want to be a pilot. We don’t have to just obey him.”

And Raleigh’s not sure what landmine he stepped on, but the effect is instantaneous. Mako whips around. Comes close until they’re almost nose-to-nose and then, eyes cold, she jabs Raleigh’s chest and starts spelling out a message on his shirt.

_N-O-T_

_O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E_. 

_R-E-S-P-E-C-T_.

She retreats to her room, kicking the door shut, and Raleigh is left alone.

~

Mako doesn’t find the note he left in her notepad until later.

_I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re okay._

~

Dr. Bautista has been with the PPDC almost since its inception. She’d been on leave when the very first kaiju attacked San Francisco in 2013, and when she returned home only to find her city destroyed, she leapt at the chance to be part of a solution. Those early days were when she first met Stacker Pentecost, and in the twelve years since then they’ve developed a solid professional relationship founded on immense mutual respect.

And that’s why Zulma feels the need to call out Stacker’s bullshit.

“Permission to speak freely, Marshal,” she says after she enters his office.

He doesn’t actually roll his eyes, but Zulma knows the intent is there. “Permission granted. Let’s hear it.”

“Miss Mori is the most qualified person in this hemisphere to pilot Gipsy with Becket, sir. She holds the Academy record for simulation kills, she restored that Jaeger with her own two hands, and she has proven herself to be compatible with Becket’s fighting habits.” 

Stacker shows a very controlled non-reaction. He’s always had a knack for that.

“Furthermore, sir, I believe we are both intelligent enough to know that in Miss Mori’s case, expecting her to simply stand by while the Breach mission is underway is frankly… idiotic.”

“She’s not ready for a real Drift. She cannot go into combat. The installation of the additional—”

“Stacker,” Zulma says softly. “The sword is not enough.”

“It has to be. It’s her only option.”

“She has the same fire in her that my sons had. She needs to do it, _she_ needs to fight. For herself as well as her family.”

Stacker closes his eyes and breathes a deep, tired sigh. “She will never forgive me, will she? If I don’t let her do this?” 

A touch of sadness is in Zulma’s smile. “Oh, Marshal. After all you’ve been through, Mako will forgive you for anything, so long as she sets something of yours on fire first. The real question is whether _you_ will ever forgive yourself.”

~

It’s 0741 when Raleigh goes up to knock on Mako’s door and realizes he has no idea what to say. 

It’s 0742 when Marshal Pentecost knocks on Mako’s door with his words thoughtfully prepared. He steps inside, carefully unwrapping one of the only pieces left of Mako’s childhood.

He pushes the little red shoe into her hands. “A long time ago, I made you a promise.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide and full of bright, untainted hope.

“Get ready.”

There are many more words he doesn’t say: “I’m sorry” are the heaviest of them. But Mako hears them anyway and tackles him in a fierce hug.

~

> **KATKAR.J.3:** RETRACT PREVIOUS STATEMENT.  
>  **KATKAR.J.3:** SHE’S IN. 

~

Raleigh likes the new pilot suits. They’ve gotten even lighter in the past five years. It’s easier to move, easier to breathe.

So the nagging sensation of being confined in a too-small enclosure is entirely independent of his armor.

“Becket to LOCCENT. How’s it lookin’ up there?”

“All systems at the ready, Becket Boy,” comes back, and the familiarity of Tendo’s voice helps. “Just waiting for the second pilot.”

Raleigh sighs a little. “Roger.”

“Things will go just fine. And if they don’t, we’re standing by. Nothing to worry about, Raleigh, we’ve got you.”

He manages a half-smile. “I know. Thanks, man.”

“TWO PILOTS ON BOARD,” announces the computer.

He fiddles with his helmet, not looking at whichever cadet he beat this morning. He hopes his disappointment won’t be too obvious in the Drift. “I’m taking this side, if you don’t mind. My left side’s kind of shot.”

No response.

But the tension in Raleigh’s chest seems to let up all at once.

He turns around and Mako is beaming at him, holding her fingers to say “OK.” And he maybe stares for a little too long; her smile shifts into a smirk, and Raleigh can’t help but laugh.

“I guess there’s no point saying anything. You’re gonna be in my head in a few minutes.” 

He wonders how different it will be. Getting into Yancy’s head had felt natural, like coming home. How will it feel with Mako? There’s a not-insignificant amount of fear, but now Raleigh is mostly eager to find out how her brain will fit with his.

“You look good,” he blurts out for no reason at all, and Mako smiles a little wider as she dons her helmet.

(“She’s about to see what an idiot you really are,” says Yancy. And all he does is smile.)

~

When the neural handshake is complete and the RABIT vanishes, Raleigh hopes all the sign language memories will stick.

His mind starts visualizing gestures, and somehow he knows that they mean “I hope so too.”

Raleigh and Mako turn to each other and smile, moving together with Gipsy into a fighting stance while applause echoes through the hangar.

For a while, everything is perfect.

~

But then Raleigh wonders what it would be like to lose Mako, lose her the same visceral way he lost Yancy, and he accidentally tugs Mako out of phase with him. And even when he manages to pull himself out, she plunges them back headfirst, so deep and so fast that Raleigh can’t tell which way is up.

There’s another Mako now, a little one, a phantom one who can’t be touched or reasoned with, no matter how hard Raleigh tries.

“It’s a memory, it can’t hurt you anymore,” he says, but they both know it’s a filthy lie. He tries to reach her but she is gone, she is crying, she is hurting, and he can do nothing.

Little Mako runs to hide as the world shakes and crumbles around her.

The real Mako throws her hands up and activates Gipsy’s plasma cannon, ready this time to fight back.

Little Mako screams and screams and screams, and Raleigh knows she never speaks again. 

~

When it’s over, he can’t get out of his harness fast enough.

“Mako! Daijoubu? Mako? Mako, daijoubu?” 

She collapses, eyes starting to roll back into her skull, and Raleigh catches her around the waist. 

“You’re okay,” he says heavily, even though they’re both trembling. “It’s okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

Mako is very still as they wait in the hallway. She must emulate dignity in face of her shame.

But Raleigh can’t stop pacing. Chuck just keeps fucking _talking_ , and it’s getting on his last nerve.

A tall, slender woman in a lab coat approaches them, and Raleigh knows (because Mako knows) this is Tsu-Ching Yu.

Mako starts signing before Tsu-Ching has a chance to speak, and now Raleigh can understand.

_I do not want your pity._

_I am not offering pity, I am offering support. We all are._

Mako jerks her chin toward the room where Chuck Hansen is still yelling, and Tsu-Ching vehemently shakes her head.

_No. He is a scared boy who likes to pretend he is brave. He is not like you. Everyone working at this base knows there is no one like you._ Tsu-Ching is on the verge of tears. _We are worried for you. We want to help._

Mako closes her eyes for a moment and takes a shaky breath. _Thank you for your concern. But please, I would like to be alone._

Tsu-Ching turns to Raleigh, and he belatedly realizes he’d been intruding on their conversation. But before he can say his apology the door swings open, and Chuck comes swaggering out.

“You two,” he huffs, “are a goddamn disgrace. You’ll get us all killed. And here’s the thing, Raleigh: I actually enjoy my life. So why don’t you get lost. Just disappear. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”

Raleigh feels the exact moment the last of Mako’s patience evaporates—it’s the only reason he’s able to get a hand in front of her fist before it reaches Chuck’s throat.

The dumbass has the gall to laugh. “Yeah, hold back your little girlfriend. One of you bitches needs a leash.”

And that’s the last of Raleigh’s patience.

He’s punching Chuck in the face before he really knows what’s happening. “Apologize to her,” he says flatly.

“Fuck you,” spits Chuck, and then they’re colliding with each other.

Dimly, in the back of Raleigh’s mind, he’s aware of Mako trying to thrash her way into the brawl, but Tsu-Ching has her in an expert headlock and is whispering things about restraint to her in rapid Cantonese.

Raleigh shoves Chuck against the pipes so hard they start leaking, and when Chuck stands up again in a bright white cloud of hot steam, Raleigh has to squash the absurd desire to laugh.

Because he’s done this once before, more than a lifetime ago. Yancy had gotten into a bar fight when they were still in high school, and when it moved outside where the Becket brothers had room to get creative, it got very out of hand very quickly. They were paying off the property damages for months afterward.

He hasn’t thought about that day in a long time.

“I said apologize to her,” Raleigh repeats, and when Chuck charges at him, he’s ready.

Mako’s fighting style feels as natural as breathing, but even Raleigh is surprised when he hooks his leg over Chuck’s arm and flips them both onto the ground.

He never realized ghosting was this intense—but then again, he’s only ever Drifted with Yancy. Clearly, Drifting with Mako Mori is something else altogether.

Raleigh looks up, Chuck still pinned and struggling beneath him. Tsu-Ching continues to hold Mako in a tight headlock, and they are both watching with wide eyes.

And that’s how Herc Hansen finds them all when he bursts into the hallway. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

~

“It was my fault, sir, I—”

“The fault is mine. You two never should’ve been put in the same machine.”

“Sir, I went out of phase first, Mako—”

“—is inexperienced and particularly susceptible to getting lost in the Drift—”

“But if I hadn’t—”

“But you _did_ ,” Marshal Pentecost says flatly, “and it cannot be ignored.”

“So you’re grounding us?”

The marshal looks at him solemnly. “Not you.”

When Mako stands, she moves like Gipsy: stiff, heavy, mechanical. The devious, playful spark in her is gone. Everything about her has turned to stone. _Permission to be dismissed, sir._

Raleigh will never understand how the marshal looks her in the eye, sees her tears, and still manages to say in a steady voice, “Permission granted.”

“Mako,” he starts, but she’s already running.

~

And suddenly Raleigh is fucking livid.

“We both know I’m not compatible with anyone else here, Marshal. So what option does this leave us, huh? Tell me.”

“Now is not the time for your insubordination, ranger. Mako is too inexperienced to control her memories. My decision is final.”

“That’s not why you grounded her. I know what she means to you, I was in her memories, I saw—”

“I don’t care what you think you saw.”

“But why won’t you let her speak?”

“She has worked long enough on Gipsy that anything killed with that Jaeger will—”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Marshal—”

“I will not have her die in a kaiju attack the same way the civilians in Tokyo—”

“You _rescued_ her from Tokyo,” yells Raleigh, all volume control lost. “You raised her, you helped her recover. You’re not protecting her now by keeping her out of a Jaeger, you are _holding her back_ —”

“You will stand down, ranger!” thunders Pentecost, and then he is collected once again. “I do not need your opinions, Mr. Becket, I need only your compliance and your fighting skills. This conversation is over.”

And he leaves a fuming Raleigh alone in the room.

~

Here is what Raleigh learned from the Drift:

A young Mako Mori remained nonverbal for several days after Onibaba’s attack on Tokyo. 

Post-traumatic stress, the psychologists told Pentecost. It’s a common reaction, particularly in children. Give it time.

“What can I do until she speaks again?” he asked.

“Writing is usually best,” they said. 

“I know no kanji.”

“Learn. Use hiragana until you do. But if she becomes frustrated, try sign language.”

But then the days turned to weeks and stretched to months, and still she didn’t speak. Mako was in perfect physical health, as all the scans and tests confirmed. She wasn’t catatonic, either—she responded to stimuli, had a healthy appetite, signed everything she wanted to express. And she was still capable of sound; when the kaiju returned in her nightmares, Mako still screamed. 

Consultants were called. Interviews were held. Behavior studies were conducted. In the end, they concluded it was all by choice. There was nothing to be done. She’s responsive and cognizant, they reasoned, perfectly rational and willing to cooperate on every point except her speech. Life with Stacker Pentecost seemed to be beneficial on all accounts.

It wasn’t until an appointment shortly after her fourteenth birthday that the mystery of her silence was solved. “At first it was because I could not remember how to speak,” she wrote in clumsy Roman letters. (She was insistent on learning English.) “But now I do not wish to. I will not speak until my family’s spirits are at peace. I will only break my silence when I avenge them.”

Later that night, Mako emerged from her bathroom with wild, haphazard kaiju-blue streaks in her hair. Pentecost made no mention of the change as he slid her dinner plate across the table. He sat down and began discussing the importance of education instead, and the next day they boarded a plane to Hong Kong so that Mako could enroll in the best academic program offered by the PPDC. 

And she’d lived there ever since.

~

Whispers follow Raleigh as he makes his way through the mess hall, but when Mako arrives the noise dies completely. They stare instead—some with hostility and fear, bust most with overwhelming sympathy.

It makes Mako feel sick.

He comes to her, like he always does, and whispers, “Daijoubu?”

She doesn’t answer, but it’s okay. Raleigh knows.

“Let’s get out of here.” And their feet take them to Gipsy’s hangar, where they know they will always belong.

At first there’s too much to say, so Raleigh doesn’t. 

_I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you._

She places one hand on top of his and shakes her head. _I don’t think a warning would have helped._

“It was worse for you,” he says immediately, because he can’t let her think like that for another instant. “First Drifts are always rough, but you weren’t just tapping into my memories, you were tapping into my brother’s too. We were still connected when Yancy was taken. I felt everything, and so did you.”

_He loved you so much. He was so afraid for you._

“Yeah. I think that was the worst part.” Because Yancy’s last thoughts were about Raleigh—how he wasn’t able to protect his little brother, how he was going to fail. “Nothing can prepare you for that, but I’m sorry I didn’t try.”

Mako gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“The Drift was strong today. I know you know that. And making a connection that strong, letting someone else into your head... you have to really trust them.” He squeezes her hand back. “Thank you for reminding me what that feels like.”

Looking at Gipsy with his thoughts full of Yancy, Raleigh suddenly throws his head back and lets out a loud, sharp laugh that echoes through the hangar. He laughs so hard tears gather at his eyes while Mako only watches him with increasing concern.

“Wait so,” he says, still gasping for breath, “so—in sign language—Japanese Sign Language—is that really—is the sign for ‘brother’ really—”

And then Mako is laughing too, doubled over in silent mirth and pounding the ground.

“This one’s for you, Yancy!” he yells to the hangar, thrusting both hands toward Gipsy Danger, middle fingers up. Flipping the bird to sign the word “brother” in Japanese Sign Language is one of the most absurdly fitting coincidences Raleigh’s ever seen, and Yancy would’ve fucking loved it.

Mako pushes his arms down, still shaking with suppressed giggles, but it only encourages Raleigh to make the gesture more exaggerated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mako. It’s okay, I’m just talking to my brother. What’s wrong, why are you worried about me signing? I’m telling you, there’s no way anyone in this hangar could misunderstand this, it’s _clearly_ a very heartfelt conversation expressed in Japanese Sign Language.” 

Even while Mako scolds her co-pilot for overzealously signing “Brother! Brother! Brother!” at all empty and very-clearly-not-empty corners of the hangar, the smile that remains on her face is genuine. 

And for just a little while, the earlier events of the day are forgotten.

~

Later, Raleigh realizes she doesn’t let herself laugh out loud, and his heart nearly breaks.


	4. Chapter 4

Raleigh is ordered to return to Gipsy’s hangar at 1300 fully suited up. He is scheduled for a neural compatibility test with one of the pre-selected candidates, the one who’d managed to score two points on him in the kwoon. He re-introduces himself properly as Jacob Chung, and Raleigh knows instantly that their neural handshake is doomed to fail.

Ten minutes later, he’s proven right. Their handshake won’t even initialize properly. 

Jacob salutes when he steps out of the harness, bows deeply, apologizes for being incompatible after all, and hurries out of the cockpit before a bewildered Raleigh can say a single word. 

There are some grumblings, some whispers. Raleigh hears it on his way out, and it had probably followed Jacob as well—a botched Drift is better than RABIT chasing, and at least this time nobody went for Gipsy’s weapons.

~

This test had attracted a much smaller audience, (Raleigh couldn’t really blame them) so it was easy for Tsu-Ching’s sterile white lab coat to distinguish her in the thin crowd of onlookers. She heads straight for him as soon as he emerges from Gipsy.

“I have a question for you, Mr. Becket.”

Raleigh nods. “Go ahead.”

“Do you know what the most common reason for Drift failures with partners who show most other signs of being Drift compatible?” 

“Sexual history. One or both of them get embarrassed for the other person to see.”

“Correct. And when the RABIT commenced with Mr. Chung, do you recall what sorts of emotions you were able to detect?” She stares at him evenly, the picture of patience.

It takes a second, but when it clicks, Raleigh starts running down the hallway. 

~

Unfortunately, he runs straight into another person.

“You’re Jyoti,” he says stupidly when he looks down. “I mean—sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

She blows her long, dark hair out of her face, waving him off. “Not important. What’s your hurry?”

“I’m looking for Jacob. Or Zhi-Hui. Maybe both of them, I don’t know—”

Jyoti throws her hair over her shoulder and draws herself up to full height, which brings her just barely to Raleigh’s shoulder. “All right, Becket boy, here’s the deal.” She jabs him hard in the chest. “The two of them have had a hard enough time as it is. They’ve finally reached a good place, and the last thing they need is more grief. If anything you say, do, or think causes them any kind of pain, I’m going to program your Jaeger to blast obnoxious teenybopper music from the early 2000’s every time you take a step.”

Raleigh puts both his hands in the air. “Hey, okay, it’s good. I understand. I mean, I didn’t when we tried to Drift, but I understand _now_ , which is why I want to find them and tell them. That I understand.” They both know he’s babbling. He slows down. “I’m trying to make things right.” 

She relaxes a little, but only just. “Good.”

“You’re a very good friend to them.”

“They have been good friends to me.” She looks him up and down once, and then offers, “Jacob usually hides somewhere in Crimson’s hangar.”

“Thank you,” he says, shaking her hand. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me how Tsu-Ching managed to keep Mako in a headlock.”

Jyoti smiles and reaches up to pat the top of Raleigh’s head. “Breakfast tomorrow, 0600. We’ll talk.”

~

“Jacob!” 

He turns, a strained smile plastered to his face. “Mr. Becket. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Raleigh jogs to catch up to him. “I just want you to know—it’s good. We’re all good. His secret is safe with me, I promise.”

“So you did see.”

“Only glimpses. The emotional connection was more telling, actually.”

Jacob takes a steadying breath. “He’s worked so hard.”

“I know. And I’m sorry he feels the need to hide this part of himself, it’s not right. But if you and Zhi-Hui need to keep it quiet, I won’t tell a soul.” Raleigh puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you willing to try this again?”

~

They do try again, more successfully this time. But their neural handshake still never reaches even sixty percent strength.

There are no hard feelings. Raleigh shakes Jacob’s hand and wishes him and Zhi-Hui the best of luck. “You make each other very happy,” he says, low enough so no one else will hear. “I hope things work out for him, it’s clear he deserves it. You both do.”

Jacob claps him on the shoulder. “Drift well, Mr. Becket. I hope to see you drop with your real co-pilot someday soon.”

~

Zulma finds Mako shuffling through Gipsy’s blueprints in her office.

“You didn’t go to watch the test?”

_My presence would only be distracting_ , she signs without looking up from her papers. _I thought it best to stay away._

“I suppose. They had trouble Drifting even without Becket tripping over his feet trying to talk to you.”

_Jyoti told me what happened._

“Of course she did. All of it?”

She looks up, suddenly suspicious. _All of what?_

“She’s having breakfast with him in the morning.”

Mako gently bangs her head on the desktop. _If she tells that story from Shanghai again, I’ll strangle her._

“She won’t. Her gossip has purpose. She only shares what will make a person better understood. Otherwise she’d never have managed to get her security clearance.” Zulma takes a peek at the drawings on the desk and smiles. “I remember the day you first pitched this idea. I like to think that was the moment I knew we would be friends.”

Mako’s mouth quirks up. _You were the only one who didn’t look horrified._

“The only one who appreciated close-quarter combat, you mean. I tried to tell you the Americans were fond of projectiles.” Zulma takes a seat on the other side of the desk and waits until Mako looks her in the eye. “Now tell me honestly, Mori: how are you?”

After a long hesitation (featuring the carefully-blank expression she learned from Stacker), Mako signs slowly, _I wanted to do more._

“I know you did.”

_I gave Gipsy this sword to honor my family. To remember my father and what he loved to do. It feels wrong to allow anyone else to use it._

“If Becket’s compatibility tests keep going like they have been, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” 

_I could control it if I had more discipline._

And here Zulma can’t help but snort. “If you had any more discipline than you have now, you’d be a machine. What happened was not your fault.”

_Raleigh got out._

“Becket’s dropped before. He knew what he would see. This was your first full neural connection, and you started off just fine. You cannot blame yourself for not knowing something before you had a chance to learn it.”

_I failed them. I failed everyone._ She picks up the papers and violently throws them at the wall. Something in her cracks, and Mako hides her face in her hands, chest heaving.

Zulma sits very still for a full minute. And then she stands, goes to Mako, and wordlessly wraps her arms around her shoulders.

It’s a few quiet minutes before Mako stops shaking.

_I’m sorry you had to see me like this._

Something in Zulma’s chest stirs. Her older son used to say that all the time. Perhaps that is what prompts her to lean forward and press a dry kiss to the top of Mako’s hair. “Do not apologize. Turn it into gratitude instead.”

Mako nods and grasps her friend’s hand. _Thank you for being here, Zulma._

~

Three days later, the Breach opens. It’s a double event—two Category IV’s, and they are precisely on time.

Hermann Gottlieb crows about his victory for mathematics and algorithms even as everyone else in the Shatterdome snaps into action. Only a disgruntled Newt Geiszler is anywhere near him long enough to listen, and he only becomes increasingly peeved as Hermann waxes poetic about the beauty of numbers. Again.

“The hour, Newton! It was accurate down to the _hour!_ ”

Newt storms out once he reaches his breaking point approximately five minutes later, walking with purpose to one of the K-Science labs that had shut down due to funding. He throws the equipment together to resemble the design he has in mind, muttering profanities and gripes all the while.

“I should’ve done this _days_ ago,” Newt says into the recorder as he connects the last set of wires. He readjusts the headpiece. “All right. Here we go. Human-kaiju neural handshake initiating in five, four, three, two… one.”

~

Alpha and Crimson are sent out as defense for Striker, and Gipsy has no choice but to sit in the hangar, sidelined until her second pilot can be found.

But then the drop goes south.

The power goes down, and as LOCCENT scrambles to find ways around the massive digital failure, Raleigh and Mako come to the same conclusion at the exact same instant, and share a sharp intake of breath. They fight their way to the marshal’s side, hearts racing.

“Gipsy’s analog, sir,” gasps Raleigh. “She’s nuclear.”

Marshal Pentecost stares hard at the two of them, side-by-side and effortlessly mirroring the other’s body language. And then he looks to Mako, whose eyes are fierce and strong.

He realizes she is ready. Now that it matters, now that there are people to protect and real monsters to stop, she is ready.

The time had come.

“Suit up.”

~

“Are you afraid?” Raleigh asks when they’re alone in the elevator up to the cockpit.

Mako nods once, staring straight ahead. _But there are things more powerful than fear._ She turns to meet his eyes. _Even ours._

“Even ours,” he agrees.

~

And yes, when they enter the Drift again it feels different. There is still fear, dark and formidable. But she is steady and sure, an impenetrable sense of peace within her. Mako Mori is courage itself, and she is coming for the monsters that took her family and her childhood and her voice.

Raleigh feels so lucky to witness it.

~

There’s something else in their Drift this time, something new. Not a thought, not a message. It’s a raw, instinctual protectiveness going in both directions, and it seems to echo and amplify until it envelops them completely.

_I’ve got you._

~

Otachi doesn’t go down without a fight, biting and tackling and raging through the city. But oh, when they shoot the plasma cannon at last, when they empty the clip into the belly of the beast, every one of Mako’s nerves stand on end.

There are instances when dreaming of something so often and wanting it for so long makes the real thing impossible to be satisfying. 

Mako Mori finds that killing kaiju does not fall anywhere near that category.

~

But then they turn to Leatherback, and this one can fucking _fly_ , and before they know what’s happening they are getting dragged to the skies. The air thins and their weapons are destroyed and Raleigh begins to feel the start of panic.

“We’re out of options, Mako,” he yells, and his voice cracks as he fights the overwhelming fear that he will watch her die.

_No,_ she sends back, thinking of her parents. _There is another way._ And she jabs out her arm to deploy the weapon she brought into the world.

Raleigh just gapes. “We have a fucking _sword?_ ”

~

For the first time in more than ten years, Mako Mori speaks. 

“ ** _Watashi no kazoku no tame ni!_** ”

She feels it in every cell of her body, and Raleigh does too. Their veins are fire, their lungs are vengeance, and together they bellow at Leatherback, swinging straight through its heart the sword that represents so much. 

~

They fall and they land and they miraculously do not crash, and now both Otachi and Leatherback lie dead in the streets of Hong Kong. The sword built in honor of Mako’s father is installed in the Jaeger made for Raleigh’s brother, and it drips wet with kaiju blue as they trek through the broken city back to the Shatterdome.

The mission is complete. And at long last, so is Mako’s vow of silence.

~

“Hey Mako,” Raleigh says a little deliriously. “Daijoubu?”

She’s smiling when she turns to him. “I’m okay, Raleigh,” she says lightly, and his heart actually, literally, genuinely skips a beat when he hears his name, and the look on her face becomes unbearably smug, because she _knows_. “Are you okay, Raleigh?”

The only thing he can feel at the moment is how much his face hurts because he’s smiling so damn much. “Yeah. I think I’m good.”


	5. Chapter 5

It seems the whole base clamors toward them as they walk through the Shatterdome. They are saviors, of course, victorious co-pilots returning from war—but to some who have been stationed at Hong Kong for years, the day means so much more. Hordes of engineers push through the crowd screaming for Mako, reaching for her, some of them even weeping for her. She reaches back, looks each one of them in the eye as she vocalizes her gratitude, but she does not slow her stride.

Beside her, Raleigh feels like he’s floating.

~

The marshal urges everyone to get back to work, and Jyoti pushes her way through the dispersing crowd with impressive effort and throws her arms around Mako’s neck. Tsu-Ching isn’t far behind, but she is sobbing almost uncontrollably and more or less collapses onto both of them for support. 

“I knew you could do it!”

“We are so proud of you!”

“That rocket punch was excellent!”

“Your Drift was so strong!”

“The sword was _so awesome!_ ”

They are clutching each other and tears are in everyone’s eyes and Mako is laughing, high and clear and loud. 

Raleigh can only stare. He wants to keep that sound next to his heart until the end of time.

~

The post-drop medical examinations take longer than what Raleigh’s used to; people keep interrupting to offer Mako their congratulations. Finally one of the nurses scribbles a sign that says “CHECKUP IN PROGRESS. YOU CAN TALK TO HER LATER” and tapes it to the door to ward them off, but it only encourages them to clump around the door, fill the hallway, and form a gigantic line that winds around the corner.

Nurse Vasquez shakes her head as she connects more sensors to their foreheads. “You’re very popular, Miss Mori. What will you say to all your adoring fans?”

“I am not sure,” Mako says simply, and she glances over at Raleigh. “But I will say what I feel.”

~

She feels lots of gratitude, as it turns out. Mako spends more than two hours walking through the crowded hall, greeting and thanking and chatting with every person who came to wish her well.

Raleigh hangs back, content with watching from afar. Everyone who sees him gives a short bow, but he mostly goes unnoticed. It’s how it should be, really. He doesn’t need acknowledgment from the masses. Mako’s the real hero. The times when she turns back to smile at him are all the recognition he needs.

They walk back to the bunks together once Nurse Vasquez tells everyone to let her sleep, morons, you can talk to her tomorrow, and the air between them is charged with a dull hum of electricity. There’s a pause when they reach their rooms.

Mako looks at Raleigh, who shrugs.

She turns toward her room, and Raleigh does the same.

Mako tugs them to her door, and he’s content to follow.

~

They flop onto the bed at the same time.

“Why’s your bed more comfortable than mine?” Raleigh asks with mock outrage, face smushed into her sheets.

“Mattress pad,” she says into her pillow. “Why is talking this exhausting?” 

“Usually a person doesn’t have to talk to a hundred people in a row. It must be so hard being popular.”

She kicks him in the ribs. “Sleep?”

“God yes.”

~

They are tired down to their bones and they don’t even bother turning off the lights. (“Too far. How do you not have automatic lights yet?”)

Raleigh turns to meet her eyes, because he has to check. “If I take my shirt off… is that okay?”

“There are worse things to happen, Raleigh.” And his heart thumps again.

When the shirt is gone, Mako’s fingertips hover just above the scars from Alaska. There’s a question in her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Raleigh says hoarsely, and the rush of relief when Mako’s skin makes contact is so all-encompassing it makes them both sigh. Mako pushes closer and Raleigh instinctively wraps his arms around her waist. His eyes fall closed.

“I didn’t know velcroing felt this strong,” Mako says into his chest, fingers tracing the scar pattern up his shoulder.

Raleigh nuzzles her hair without really thinking about it. “Yeah, it gets pretty intense. Yancy and I usually shared a bed right after a Drift. Which, uh, you know already because you’ve been in my head.”

He feels her grin as she asks, “Was Yancy really always the little spoon?”

“Said it made him feel safer.”

Mako taps his chest. “Turn over.”

“What?”

“Raleigh.” _Thump-thump._ “Just turn over.”

He does, a little confused until Mako throws an arm around his ribcage and curls into the outline of his body. She nestles her face right by his neck, and he can feel every warm breath.

“How does it feel?”

“Not bad.” He’s feeling a lot of things at the moment, honestly. He turns over again so they’re laying face-to-face. “But I think I like this better.”

~

“Raleigh,” she whispers later when he’s just beginning to toe the line between awake and asleep. Her voice pulls him back in an instant, and his eyes fly open.

“Yeah?”

She touches his cheek. Stares straight into his eyes. Says very slowly, with overwhelming sincerity: 

“I am proud of you.”

Raleigh presses their foreheads together and says just as slowly, with just as much feeling:

“Right back at ya.”

~

“Raleigh.”

“Mm?”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“I think I know all your secrets. But sure.”

“Sometimes I went back to my room just to see if you were walking around shirtless again.” And she reaches out to tickle the scar that goes across his chest.

“Mako, do you want to know a secret?” Raleigh says when they’ve both stopped laughing.

“Sure.”

“That’s why I kept leaving the door open.”

~

They put a lot of effort into being as discreet as possible when they emerge from Mako’s room in the morning, so of course Jyoti and Tsu-Ching are waiting just outside to pounce as soon as they do.

“Good morning,” they trill in singsong as they latch themselves to either one of Mako’s arms.

“It used to be,” she says wryly.

Jyoti leans in and gleefully whispers, “Loading Dock C tonight, 2100 hours.”

“Bring Becket,” adds Tsu-Ching with a wink in Raleigh’s direction and what can only be described as a shit-eating grin. And then the two of them zip down the hallway.

“Was that…?” Raleigh begins, and Mako nods solemnly.

“We were just invited to poker night.”

~

_More tea?_

_Please. Thank you, sir,_ signs Raleigh, and next to him Tsu-Ching makes a show of rolling her eyes.

_You outrank him, there’s no need to call him “sir,”_ she teases.

_No, let him. I’m enjoying this_ , responds Shun-Leung Yu, and Tsu-Ching signs something so unexpectedly obscene to her husband that Raleigh chokes on his tea while the rest of the table dissolves into peals of laughter.

Zulma wipes tears from her eyes with one hand and signs with the other, _You set yourself up for that one._

_She provides a dirty joke whenever the opportunity arises. Always reliable._

Tsu-Ching pointedly covers her mouth with her hand and stage whispers to the Raleigh, “It’s why he married me.”

Shun-Leung smirks. _She said it’s why I married her, didn’t she?_

She grins and flicks a card in his direction. _I ought to divorce you soon. You know me too well._ And she leans over to kiss his cheek.

Jyoti catches Mako’s eye and mouths, “Gross.” 

_So is the married couple in or out? STOP,_ Jyoti signs to Tsu-Ching when she begins to snort with laughter again. _I’m **here** to play **poker** and bleed all of you **dry** , so either tell me your decision or hand over your money._

A loud buzzing interrupts her halfway through, and Shun-Leung quickly pulls out his vibrating phone. He looks at Mako. _Ms. Williams requests our presence in Conference Room 2714. She needs to consult us for a hearing._

Mako’s cards fall to the table as she stands. _A hearing?_

_It appears the United Nations has scheduled another call for 0500._

Mako glances at Raleigh. _We’ve already completed our debrief..._

Raleigh can only shrug while Shun-Leung turns to the rest of the table and signs, _Sorry to leave. We’ll join you again next week._

Zulma waves off the apology. _Don’t worry. Duty calls._

Jyoti just scowls. _Whatever. You’ll pay for my dual-screen setup one of these days, you bastard._

Shun-Leung gives a quick goodbye kiss to Tsu-Ching while Mako gently squeezes Raleigh’s shoulder. 

“I’ll see you later,” she whispers as she leaves.

~

As soon as Mako is out of sight, everyone at the table turns at the same moment to stare at him, and Raleigh realizes too late that he’s been cornered.

“Uh… I fold?”

“Mr. Becket,” says Tsu-Ching as she leans back in her chair. “Your Drift with Mako is very strong. You have proven to be an impressive pair of co-pilots.”

Best to tread lightly in a hostile situation. “Thank you, doctor.”

“And by all means,” cuts in Jyoti, “we are grateful for your presence. You helped her reach her goal, exact her vengeance.”

“But what we want to know,” Zulma continues as she adjusts her glasses, “is what you intend your relationship to be with Miss Mori outside of Gipsy.”

Raleigh flounders for just a second, and that’s apparently a signal for them to start attacking from all sides.

“You are of course aware of the statistics.”

“Non-familial co-pilots becoming romantically involved, if they aren’t already.”

“Within a month of their first Drift together!”

“Almost all of them. What’s the rate, Tsu-Ching?”

“Eighty-seven percent, as of 2021. But now?” She shrugs and looks pointedly at Raleigh.

“We are just checking in—”

“—merely wanted to make sure—”

“—you of all people understand—”

“She deserves the best,” Zulma states simply.

“Agreed,” says Raleigh without a second thought.

Jyoti leans forward. “Are you certain you grasp the sincerity behind our words, Becket Boy?”

“I do,” he insists, and he looks each of them in the eye. “You’ve known her for a long time—Zulma, you even watched her grow up. You would kill if it would make her safe. And I promise you that I would do the same. She’s—she’s my co-pilot, she’s… I—” And he’s not sure where it comes from, but it’s there: “I would die for her.”

“Easy, Romeo. You are both still young.” But even as she says it, Zulma peers at him with a quiet understanding.

“If you ever hurt her, Becket Boy—”

“I’ll kick your ass,” Tsu-Ching says cheerfully.

“You mean whatever shell of a human is left after Mako kicks my ass?”

Jyoti pats Raleigh’s hand. “Good answer. Now give me the cards, I’m dealing this round.”

And Tsu-Ching waits until the next hand is dealt before nonchalantly saying, “So is the velcro sex as good as all the Drift research says it is?” to make Raleigh inhale his tea a second time.

~

Ms. Williams shuts the door as soon as Mako and Shun-Leung are in the room. “No need to sit. This will be quick,” she says brusquely, signing simultaneously for Shun-Leung. 

He blinks. _I presume this isn’t a real consultation?_

_Correct. The hearing tomorrow is a formality. I’m told the United Nations has cut the Jaeger program early, effective immediately._

_Why?_ signs Mako, the rest of her unnaturally still. _We stopped a double event._

“At the cost of Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha, and nearly the loss of Striker Eureka as well. Their patience has ended.”

Mako starts cursing under her breath while Shun-Leung signs, _And what happens now?_

_Operation Pitfall. Tomorrow._ Here Ms. Williams turns to Mako. “Rest up. Tell Becket, too. We need you both ready.”

“Understood.” And when the door is shut behind her, Shun-Leung is free to grimace.

_Last I heard, Operation Pitfall was far from ready. What’s changed?_

Ms. Williams touches her hijab for a moment before signing with deliberate caution, _Dr. Geiszler’s research has made some impressive leaps in progress._

He leans forward. _So it’s true? He Drifted with a kaiju?_

_**Tried** to Drift with a kaiju._ Ms. Williams looks at him hard. _We need you to call in your favor from Hannibal Chau._

~

The kaiju brain shows up just before dawn. It’s a glorious specimen, preserved to a level that’s nothing short of miraculous.

Newt presses his entire body up to the glass of the tank. “I think I might cry.”

“Do pretend to have some modicum of professionalism, Newton.”

“Excuse me for wanting to bask in what could very well be _the_ most pivotal moment in the entire field of K-science, Hermann.” 

The marshal clears his throat. “Your focus, gentlemen. We need this done.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison, and it isn’t long before Newt’s makeshift neural bridge is ready.

“How many of these prototypes are there?” Hermann asks suddenly, holding up the headpiece.

“The neural connectors? Uhh…”

“Is there another?”

“Yeah, yeah yeah yeah. Why?”

“Marshal, if you’ll allow me to propose a hypothesis—”

“Oh, here we go.”

Pentecost taps a finger. “Make it _brief_.”

“Newton’s first attempt to Drift nearly killed him. Connecting with a dead scrap of kaiju brain yielded incomplete results, only giving him an impression that kaiju are connected to something more, connected to other kaiju. It sounds as if they, like Jaeger pilots, are sharing a neural load. Now he is attempting to initiate a neural connection with a fully-intact brain, and I fear it will exceed the neural capacity for one person.” He fiddles with the collar of his shirt. “It is my belief that in order to glean the necessary information, someone should Drift with him. And the best candidate to do so may in fact be myself.”

A beat of silence.

“It’s sound logic, Doctor Gottlieb.”

“Gee, Hermann. I didn’t know you cared.”

“Quiet. This is to prevent worldwide destruction, you dunce.”

~

They sit back-to-back on the floor, right in front of the kaiju brain’s tank. Marshal Pentecost stands several feet away, waiting and watching.

“Ready, Hermann?”

“Not remotely.”

“That’s the spirit, pal. Human-kaiju neural handshake initiating in five, four, three, two… one.”

~

Tsu-Ching literally kicks the door open.

But Geiszler and Gottlieb have already pushed the button, and she is too late.

“Dr. Yu, this is a restricted—”

“Get them out, Marshal.”

“They are performing—”

“Has your thirst for knowledge blinded you?” she yells without realizing she’s switched to Cantonese. “The neural connection goes both ways! If they learn about kaiju, the kaiju learns about _us_. And if all kaiju are connected in a hive mind—”

Marshal Pentecost dives for the neural connectors.

~

They Drift. There’s more this time—of course there is, it’s a bigger brain, a perfect brain, and now half of it’s going to Hermann. They see the Breach, they see the clones, they see the masterful, intricate web of the kaiju hive mind.

And then it becomes suddenly, horrifyingly clear to Newt and Hermann that they are being seen as well.

~

They’re thrown out of the Drift and left gasping and shaking on the cold tile floor. Hermann begins to retch, but Newt can’t seem to move. Between desperate gulps of air, he groans over and over:

“They’re coming. Oh god oh god oh god, they’re coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Daijoubu" is generally used in Japanese to mean "I'm okay," "that's fine," "it's all right," etc. Posing it as a question is typically a way to check on someone.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://blackwiresgrowonherhead.tumblr.com/).


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